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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28214337">You still don’t know my name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalDolly/pseuds/CannibalDolly'>CannibalDolly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Clone High</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, BPD, Drugs, Emotionally Repressed, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Euphoria (TV 2019), JFK has a terrible comping mechanism, Joan and Vincent are gay best friends, LSD, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Graphic Violence, Party, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, this is clearly inspired off Euphoria the tv show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:14:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28214337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalDolly/pseuds/CannibalDolly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan and Vincent decide to plan their revenge on JFK and his friends by sneaking at his 18th birthday party and cause some trouble.<br/>However the two friends get easily lost in the euphoric mass and somehow Vincent ends up in the bathroom on the verge of taking some dangerous pills with a drunk JFK.</p><p>The two don’t even get to know each other’s names in time as panic and chaos quickly ensues when the jock attempts to drown himself in the pool while high on acids.<br/>Luckily someone will be there to save him and take him home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>JFK/Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Revenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’m a big sucker for teen drugs and romance drama sorta thing, so I had to rewrite them in something similar to “euphoria”.</p><p>I’m just a poor drug and alcohol addict depressed bitch myself, wrote dis just to vent a bit and maybe find comfort in these characters’ interactions and relationships.<br/>Enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p><br/>
It felt like another typical repetitive day at school, a Friday just like any other really.</p><p>Same weather, same faces, same homework, same endless nights without sleep because of intrusive midnight thoughts…it felt tiring.</p><p>Vincent constantly felt tired, the class was almost over but he seriously couldn’t take it any longer, he crossed his arms on the desk and rested his head between them, closing his eyes for an instant.</p><p>There was only one unusual thing going on in class that day, everyone seemed to be really in the mood to excitedly chitchat and whisper between each other…something was going on for sure, he could feel it.</p><p>The annoying intrusive sound of low toned laughing and whispering gave him an unsettling and uncomfortable feeling, he always had the paranoia that someone could have been making fun of him without him even realizing it.</p><p>He would have actually found the courage to say something back like a harsh response or an unusual insult that was very much “unlike him” to just cover his embarrassment and to apparently seem intimidating…but his insecurities would have the better over his courage most of the time he just couldn’t manage to find the right words to react to the tauntings.</p><p>He was afraid to lift his head from the desk and maybe catch half class staring at him so he stayed quiet and still.</p><p>He closed his eyelids and rested, praying for the lesson to end soon so he could get away from there.</p><p> </p><p>Only around thirty minutes later, after the lesson ended, the actual reason for their constant prattling finally came to the surface.</p><p>Everyone turned quiet as JFK, the well known school jock, took his time to take the place of the teacher, right in front of the whole class to face everyone.</p><p>« Everyone, i er, got a great announcement to make! ».</p><p>Everyone already seemed to know what the whole thing was about for some reason, everyone but Vincent.</p><p>He barely spoke to anybody, he didn’t know the latest gossip or the coolest guy in school at the moment or any other stupid voice that ran around between the school students and honestly he didn’t give a single fuck…but there was one thing he knew for sure.</p><p>JFK and his group of friends were people not to be trusted, ever.</p><p> </p><p>He never really interacted with the tall jock, they lived in two completely different worlds,  but he sure as hell had the occasion to experience some bullying from his other friends, getting to know how much of a bunch of assholes they were.</p><p>Unlike his friends, that used to make fun at him when they saw him in the halls, mimicking his way of walking or his missing ear, calling him a freak and other names of all kind, JFK tended to ignore him instead.</p><p>They never shared a glare nor a word, Vincent basically didn’t even exist to the popular guy and vice versa…and maybe it was better this way.</p><p> </p><p>But now there he was, ready to announce something that probably didn’t matter at all, looking at each and every student in the eyes…and Vincent could do nothing else but stand there and listen to him.</p><p>He soon decided to look away to avoid any eye contact with the taller guy, tiredly resting his chin between his arms as he waited for the whole thing to end.</p><p>« As er, most of you already may know » JFK went on, « This handsome man right here…is turning 18 this Saturday! » he screamed the last bit by pointing at himself with one thumb.</p><p>Everyone screamed or cheered, or at least most of them did since a few guys (including Joan, of course) weren’t as excited as the others at all.</p><p> </p><p>« I’m throwing the biggest party in history at my house Saturday night and everyone is er, fucking invited! » he loudly announced again right after he gained a bit more of silence from the students, « You know what that fucking means…er uh, sex, alcohol and druuuuugs!! » he basically shouted almost as an howl before the whole class would throw another loud burst of noises, screaming, beating their fists against their desks with a roaring sound, cheering in all kinds of animalistic ways…</p><p>Vincent covered his ears in annoyance, hoping that everything would end as quickly as possible. He threw an angry look at JFK for a mere second, his eyes flaming with rage and annoyance until he noticed the his face.</p><p>The jock’s expression was weird, strangely different from usual…you see, he was smiling and laughing, but Vincent could recognize a fake smile when he saw one.</p><p>His cheering expression kinda looked forced and, for some reason, JFK’s eyes were empty…completely empty.</p><p> </p><p>Vincent felt a shiver down his spine, he must have seen the tall guy probably smiling and laughing lightheadedly a thousand times before…but this was his first time seeing him with such a forced and weirdly emotionless expression.</p><p>It was the look in his eyes, something was dead, Vincent could tell.</p><p>He knew what it felt like to fake a smile or to pretend like everything was fine…and most importantly, he could read people’s eyes like open books, he knew the difference between a genuine happy look and a slightly forced one.</p><p>He bit his lip nervously, thinking.</p><p> </p><p>« Bring all the best alcohol and acids you can er, find! » the jock went on after laughing and sharing a few high-fives with his friends, « Who won’t come tomorrow night is a fucking loser and a puuuuussy! Ya heard that, Joan?! » he screamed at her.</p><p>Joan, from across the classroom, quickly stood up and grabbed her bag with rage in her eyes before silently heading to the classroom’s exit door, purposely stepping on JFK’s feet on her way out and muttering something that sounded like “fucking asshole” as the jock gasped in surprise for the temporary pain.</p><p>The lesson was over after all, the students were supposed to leave anyways.</p><p>Vincent looked at her leaving and suddenly felt deep indignation growing for the jock, fucking asshole indeed.</p><p>He wanted to chase after her, maybe get to talk, but he was too scared of dragging the whole class’ attention towards him by standing up and walking out, definitely not worth it.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t really know JFK, again, he never spoke to him nor ever really interacted with him in any way…but he could feel that he wasn’t quite being himself lately.</p><p>The school knew him for being attractive, cool, funny, a bit of a perv even….but never before he has ever heard anyone calling him a “bully” or a “bad guy”.</p><p>Vincent has always pictured him to be the average popular jock in every school, a classic…but something different was going on.</p><p>The artist wasn’t someone that tended to trust anyone that easily either, but he was sure as hell that JFK was up to something…he could feel it.</p><p>He looked more…evil.</p><p>More in the mood for treating bad the others for no reason at all.</p><p> </p><p>« Anyone else er, joining the loser club with Joansie? » he laughed, everyone laughed with him as a response.</p><p>« Well then » JFK walked towards the exit to leave the class too along with his friends,</p><p>« See you all tomorrow night back at my place! ».</p><p>His friends walked out before him and the jock followed them until he stopped right at the door to turn around, suddenly facing Vincent that was sitting right next to it.</p><p>They exchanged a quick glare, maybe the first they ever shared before…</p><p>His green-grey emotionless irises piercing through his pleading and nervous blue ones.</p><p>« Hope I’ll see you there too » he grinned before heading out.</p><p>Vincent stood petrified, his nerves tensed and his skin shivered with anxiety.</p><p>What the fuck was that?</p><p> </p><p>The bell rang and the rest of the class noisily stood up and left the class, leaving Vincent alone, almost blocked on his chair, his gaze lost in the void and his thoughts racing so fast they almost left him breathless.</p><p>Why? Why did he talk to someone like him? And why was he hoping to see him at the party? What did he even mean with that? They didn’t even know each other and…</p><p>Vincent quickly snapped awake from his thoughts, he grabbed the bag and hurriedly stuffed the books in it before heading out to lunch.</p><p>Because of his small stature the guy couldn’t always manage to see well or walk his way through the big crowds of students forming in the halls at each bell ring without accidentally getting pushed or almost stepped on…</p><p>But despite his eight, Vincent often used it to his own advantage to slip more easily through the others and quietly, almost sneakily, disappearing from the crowd without anyone noticing him.</p><p> </p><p>Once he finally managed to make his way out of the mass he looked around a few times, hoping to be able to still find Joan. Not a chance.</p><p>The girl was probably long gone by now and it would have been impossible to find her now that the halls were so crowded. He could barely stand the pressure and panic that big crowded spaces gave him.</p><p>He sighed in delusion and gave up on finding her, he looked down at the bag he was still holding in his hands and decided to just find a spot to stay alone for a while, maybe eat his lunch in peace without having to fear the arrive of any stupid prick coming to bother him and stress him even more than he already was.</p><p> </p><p>He entered the nearest public bathroom, empty and silent as always, and locked himself in one of the stalls.</p><p>The space was a little narrow and limited, but Vincent managed to find a comfortable position, sitting on the closed toilet lid with his knees pressed up against his chest and the bag lazily hanging from the coat hook on the wall.</p><p>The small boy slipped his hand inside the tiny side pocket of the bag and poked around until his fingers finally found what he was looking for.</p><p>He pulled out a small, almost empty, crumpled pack of cigarettes; casually pulling out one and putting it between his pink chapted lips as he palmed his coat’s pockets to find a lighter.</p><p>Lucky for him there was a tiny closed window right behind his back; if Vincent had decided to stand with his feet on the floor for some reason he would have probably never been able to reach for it, but standing on top of the toilet lid instead gave him just the perfect height to reach out and open the window just a little, letting in the fresh outside air.</p><p> </p><p>He smoked carefully but calmly, he didn’t happen to do it every single day, but most of the times the boy just found himself in the undeniable need for the smoke to reach and fill his lungs once in a while, it was just some sort of personal ritual he used to do during lunch breaks, it calmed him and for some reason it really did felt relaxing.</p><p>He quietly kept smoking in the comfort of his own until a sudden hard knocking against the door almost made him jump in fear.</p><p>The boy stared at the door in front of him, petrified, silent…was it a teacher? A student? He couldn’t bear to have another annoying little asshole making fun of him, dumping the trash in his bathroom stall or even worse, playing the spy and have him suspended again.</p><p>He had worked really hard this year not to get suspended as much as he used to be before. Between skipping classes, “vandalizing” the school property by carving a few drawings on the surfaces of wooden doors or walls, or even being sent back to therapy by the school principal after some “violent impulsive behavior” in class…</p><p>he just didn’t want to see his mom sad and worried for him all over again.</p><p> </p><p>« Vincent? » the gentle, almost insecure, voice of a teen echoed in the empty bathroom,</p><p>« It’s me, Joan ».</p><p>Vincent kept his eyes on the closed door in from of him, still too indecisive on whether he should have opened or not.</p><p>« Can i come in? » her voice sounded a little different…pleading maybe?</p><p>Vincent leaned close and insecurely opened the locked door, pushing himself flat against the wall as Joan awkwardly and silently made her way in the restricted little stall, locking the door again once she was in.</p><p>The two of them stood silent for a second, the space was a little too narrow between them and Vincent couldn’t do much to avoid the smoke of his cigarette dissipating against her face as well, she didn’t seem to mind though.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at her for a moment, not being able to look anywhere else considering how extremely and awkwardly close their faces where, it almost gave him a little panic to be in such a small place, locked in with someone.</p><p>She kept her face down, a chunk of red hair covering her left brow, and with a closer look Vincent noticed the black smeared trails of makeup under her eyes that faded while running down her cheeks…it didn’t took him long to come to realize she had been crying.</p><p>« I was…looking for you » Vincent said shyly, way to embarrassed and insecure on how to start that conversation, he nervously brought the cigarette back to his trembling lips.</p><p>« Been here the whole time…» Joan responded, finally lifting her gaze to casually look at the small window, clearly avoiding eye contact, too embarrassed for the state she was in.</p><p> </p><p>« I-I’m…I’m sorry for the way he treated you back there » the small boy let out after a while, his voice soft and quiet, « T-that was an asshole move…I don’t even-…».</p><p>« He changed » Joan interrupted him, still avoiding eye contact, « Sure, he was stupid, cocky and kind of annoying…but he used to be kind, at least to me…I used to trust him ».</p><p>Joan crossed her arms against her chest, letting out a long tired sigh, « I just…i don’t even know why I’m saying this to you-…I’m sorry, Vincent, you probably don’t even care about my-…».</p><p>Vincent shook his head quick, he never had such a personal and close conversation like this with someone before, and eating alone with his own thoughts made him shiver…he could really use some company, and she probably needed it too.</p><p> </p><p>« No no, I do care! » he replied, « Y-you know you can always talk to me…I mean…if you want to ».</p><p>He sounded too awkward, he wasn’t used to have this sort of private conversations with anyone, to be exact he didn’t really have any super close friends other than Joan, just a few acquaintances around the school.</p><p>She half smiled in return though, his embarrassment quickly disappeared.</p><p>«…Thank you, dude » she patted his right shoulder lightly, thankful to at least have a friend like him that actually listened without making fun of her like the other boys, « It’s just…i don’t know, everything is going to shit lately…with Abe…and Cleo’s not talking to me anymore…and, y’know, I thought at least JFK would stick by my side as a friend but…I don’t think it’s still gonna happen anymore ».</p><p>Vincent inhaled slowly, his eyes closing momentarily, « That’s…that’s what I wanted to talk to you about » he whispered, « I don’t personally know Jack and we never even talked before a-and… I probably shouldn’t make assumptions…but even I can tell he’s different, something in him definitely has changed ».</p><p>He felt another shiver running down his spine as he thought about his empty emotionless grey eyes again looking at him.</p><p> </p><p>They exchanged a quick look, she looked a lot hurt about that, « I have no idea of what’s going on or why he’s acting like this…I just don’t know, he used to be so different and…and now…I just wish I knew what’s happening, what’s bothering him…what turned him this way ».</p><p>Vincent felt a little reluctant about telling her what the jock had said to him before leaving the class, he still couldn’t believe it himself.</p><p>« Look Joan, about the party…» he brought up, « He…he said he really wanted to see me there too…but I don’t even know what he meant by that! We don’t even-…».</p><p>Joan widened her eyes at that sentence, « He…he what?! ».</p><p>Vincent gulped nervously, almost regretting telling her about that.</p><p>Joan pinched the bridge of her nose, « That fucking…little…cock sucker! » she barked the last bit as she suddenly kicked the wall in front of her with her heavy boot, making Vincent jump out in fear from that unexpected reaction.</p><p>He stood there, silent and petrified as he looked at the taller girl in front of him loosing her temper, he wanted to help her calm down but he couldn’t even find the words to begin.</p><p> </p><p>Joan passed a hand over her face and sighed, trying to calm herself before looking back at Vincent, « Don’t you get what he’s trying to do? ».</p><p>He looked at her, still kinda shocked and scared.</p><p>« This is probably all some sort of a fucked up plan from his devious little mind » she said while shaking her head in discomfort, « He probably invited all of us to his stupid party just to make fun of us or something, embarrass us in front of the whole school…just like he did with me during prom night, j-just like he did with-…».</p><p>Joan’s voice broke and Vincent noticed more tears dwelling up in her eyes.</p><p>The shorter guy furrowed his brows, « H-hey, hey! » he said softly while letting some smoke out of his mouth as he spoke, « J-Joan! Joan, I-it’s ok! Look at me! ».</p><p>They exchanged a quick look, they both looked somehow destroyed and tired physically and mentally, and maybe that was what tied them together and made their friendship stronger…faithful.</p><p> </p><p>He never really had any friends, or at least students that he could consider as such.</p><p>He didn’t had anyone to vent his problems or deepest thoughts with if not his therapist…except for Joan, she was different.</p><p>It always felt like one way or the other the two teens had something in common, maybe the constant insecurities, the fear of being left alone, the never ending sadness, the repressed rage…</p><p>Sure, Joan didn’t even had half of the serious problems and diagnosed illnesses Vincent had, but they somehow managed to understand each other, always talking their problems out and giving comfort in return.</p><p>Weather it was her speaking about her repressed feelings for Cleo or him venting about hating to death his unauthentic and “worthless” art.</p><p> </p><p>« N-none of that is ever gonna happen! » Vincent told her with a tone in his voice he never thought he had, « I know for sure that his friends are a bunch of bullying assholes…and that lately he’s been acting really weird too…».</p><p>Joan looked at him in confusion, hoping he would explain better what exactly was his point. Was he not by her side? Was he not scared of being JFK’s next target and becoming the school’s biggest joke?</p><p>Vincent thought again about Jack’s empty grey eyes, clear and pure like the ocean’s salty  water but cutting and deadly just like a kitchen knife.</p><p>JFK never did anything to him “yet”, never really made fun of him or bullied him unlike his friends did, but he wanted to help Joan. Make her feel better.</p><p>« …But I do wanna find out what’s going on…I can tell there’s something up, it’s clear as day, and I believe w-we can fight it » he said, not so sure of himself, « We could go there and, y’know…get revenge ».</p><p> </p><p>Vincent grinned smugly at those words, taking one last drag from what remained of his cigarette before throwing the butt in the toilet with a quick move.</p><p>Joan looked at him and quickly understood his plan, she looked at his “devilish” little grin and laughed.</p><p>She loved how despite his small and frail stature or his apparently shy personality, Vincent was deep down a vindictive and violent bastard when he wanted to.</p><p>She should have been afraid since the little guy already “performed” a few violent reactions in class in the past, scaring the teachers and keeping the students even more far away from him than before…but she couldn’t help it, she loved his slightly aggressive side.</p><p>If anyone would have looked at him they would have never guessed that the small teen was deep down all that combative.</p><p> </p><p>« Revenge? » Joan murmured while thinking, « Damn, Van Gogh sure is someone you don’t wanna mess with, uh? » she smiled to him.</p><p>« We’re just gonna sneak in and play a prank on them or something » Vincent nervously scratched the back of head, « Y’know…nothing that could actually get us in real trouble…I’ve already been there a few times ».</p><p>Joan nodded in agreement, « I like the sound of that, we could-…».</p><p>She suddenly got interrupted by the sound of the school bell ringing again, the two teens looked at each other, realizing how much time had actually passed since they first started talking.</p><p>Joan quickly wiped the smeared black makeup under her eyes with her sleeve before quickly opening the stall’s door.</p><p>« It’s been nice talking to you, Vincent » she said as she turned around to look at him, « I gotta leave before the others start wondering why the hell was i in the boys bathroom…» she said while rolling her eyes.</p><p>« I’ll call you tomorrow, we’ll plan something out » she said before closing the door and walking down the hall.</p><p>Vincent looked at her leaving and stood still, listening to the buzzing silence of that bathroom stall.</p><p>“Revenge” he thought again, he loved the sound of that word.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The break down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vincent struggles with his own everyday problems, including his mom being overly protective and his negative reaction to it</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>JFK and Vince get to meet properly at the beginning of the next chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p><br/>Vincent noisily threw the heavy, almost bigger than him, backpack on the floor as he entered his bedroom.</p><p>He felt exhausted, stressed, and annoyed by a painful migraine that wouldn’t leave him alone, not even at night when he desperately wanted to just close his eyes and sleep.</p><p>His mom greeted him from downstairs but before the woman could even manage to reach him from the kitchen the small boy had already quickly walked all the stairs to his room again.</p><p>He sighed and scratched the back of his head with exhaustion as he looked around his room, it was a compete and total mess, his mom used to scold him all the time too for constantly being too messy and always keeping everything in a total state of chaos.</p><p>He thought about that one time when his therapist said “The state of your room reflects the state of your mind” and honestly? She was absolutely right.</p><p> </p><p>He stumbled across a few cans of paint, walking on top of a few newspaper pages casually  displayed on the floor as a barrier to avoid the paint from staining the wood underneath. He hardly made his way to the bed without stepping on any brushes left there, untouched and still dirty with colors.</p><p>Sure, his room was a complete mess, but who could blame him? An artist with no place to go to find the so sought-after freedom he needed to comfortably paint and express his feeling through his art.</p><p>All he had was his bedroom, the quiet and peaceful silence of those four walls that surrounded him and that made him feel protected, safe.</p><p>He didn’t own a garage or a separate studio to paint, so all he could do was just position his easel in front of his open windows and place a new canvas on it to start working.</p><p> </p><p>The room was a nice and secure place to work on his art…but god, whenever he looked outside the window as he painted the only thing he could wish for was to be able to paint while sitting under a tree in an immense wheat field during a quiet summer afternoon.</p><p>When he closed his eyes he could picture it so well, the charming sound of the easy breeze that ruffled his messy hair and the warmth of the sun gently kissing his freckled face under the straw hat on top of his head…</p><p>Then he would open his eyes and suddenly fall back into the cold, dark and silent reality of his room, furrowing his brows in disappointment and quickly loosing his inspiration to paint…always ending up trashing the canvas he had started one way or the other.</p><p> </p><p>“Inspiration”…that’s what he needed so badly.</p><p>The main reason he hated his art so bad was due to the lack of inspiration, the constant fear of “not being enough” or “not succeeding” in being just as good as the original Vincent Van Gogh, the thought gave him terrible anxiety and a weird painful feeling in his stomach.</p><p>He tried not to think about it for a while, he constantly had to distract himself from his thoughts with different things, that’s what his therapist suggested most of the time.</p><p>He remained in just his soft white turtleneck sweater as he removed his blue coat and threw it carelessly on the bed, gracelessly taking off his shoes as well.</p><p>It just took him a second quick look around to decide that maybe it was time to try and clean up a bit the mess in his room.</p><p> </p><p>He hated cleaning or tidying up things…but doing it kept him distracted from possible negative and impulsive thoughts, so he decided to stick with that instead.</p><p>He bent over and picked up the dirty brushes scattered all over the floor, collecting them one by one while trying not to get any paint on his clothes or hands.</p><p>He carefully walked towards the bathroom and reached for the sink, turning on the water while trying his best to avoid looking at his reflection in the mirror.</p><p>Sure, he didn’t mind checking himself a few times and it didn’t really bother him to have a super quick glance every once in a while to the living room’s mirror on his way out before going to school in the morning…but he didn’t really enjoy staring at himself for too long either.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing his reflection made him realize how much he didn’t really properly take care of himself to the point of reaching the “basic standards of beauty”.</p><p>And for some reason he couldn’t stand looking at his face…his wild messy hair were too scruffy, his lips chapped, his dark eye bags too noticeable, his beard always untrimmed…and he hated to death that stupid bandage he had to keep around his head, it felt itchy and ridiculous…and it reminded him of how much of a stupid asshole he had been to achieve it himself with his own hands.</p><p>He constantly felt guilty for it and nothing would have ever made him feel any less.</p><p>But apart from that…he had worked a lot on his self esteem during his period in therapy, now he kinda managed to regain a certain control and peace, temporarily forgetting the things he hated the most about himself and his personality.</p><p> </p><p>His slim pale fingers ran through the bristles of his multiple brushes, rubbing off the color and letting it wash away in the sink.</p><p>About time he decided to clean his tools! He wasn’t much of a clean or organized person but seeing his brushes clean and finally ready to be used again made him feel better…maybe even more in the mood to paint again.</p><p>His eyes fixed on the trail of colors mixing together in the sink as they slowly ran down the drain, and his mind started wandering.</p><p>He thought about all the times jfk’s friends made fun of him in the halls, whispering and laughing while looking at him, mimicking his missing ear or his “weird” way of walking, always spreading rumors about him and even making his name to the principal when they  caught him smoking in the bathrooms…sometimes they even used to leave notes and other shit in his locker…</p><p> </p><p>Vincent bit his lower lip, “assholes”.</p><p>His fingers rubbed harshly against the now clean bristles of his brushes as his mind kept racing.</p><p>He started thinking about what him and Joan talked about in the bathrooms earlier that day…jfk’s birthday party, their plan on taking revenge…</p><p>He kinda felt bad about it though, sure he was a bit of a violent and vindictive person himself…but to him JFK had nothing to do with their initial plan.</p><p>He didn’t know the jock and viceversa, they never interacted and the other man never even tired to make fun of him or bully him once…</p><p>He didn’t deserve to have his birthday party ruined just because his friends were a bunch of dicks, he started feeling guilty again…</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he could have just called Joan the next day and tell her to spare the jock, maybe only take their revenge on his friends…but then again Joan had been embarrassed in front of the class multiple times because of him and asking her not to do anything about it would have been rude and unfair.</p><p>Thinking about it…Vincent didn’t even ask his mom about the whole party, he completely forgot.</p><p>The boy turned off the running water and dried his brushes with a towel before walking back to his room to put them in their specific jar, feeling a little better in seeing some order between his tools.</p><p> </p><p>Vincent felt a bit of anxiety squirm in his stomach as he finally walked down the stairs, preparing himself mentally to ask his mom about jfk’s party.</p><p>He already had the slight intrusive feeling that she was gonna say no, but one could never know for sure.</p><p>He slowly entered the kitchen and awkwardly stood next to the doorframe as he watched his mom preparing dinner, he was almost afraid to come any closer.</p><p>The woman casually turned her head to look at him and smiled briefly before turning back to what she was doing, « Look who finally decided to show up! ».</p><p>Vincent scratched his arm nervously, trying to look for the right words to use.</p><p>« Yeah uhm…Just passing by…» his eyes casually flew around the room, focusing on anything other than the back of her foster mom as she cooked, « Did you…did you know tomorrow’s one of my classmates’ 18<sup>th</sup> birthday? ».</p><p>« Oh? » she commented vaguely without looking away from what she was doing.</p><p> </p><p>Vincent wanted to slap himself for being so goddamn insecure all the time, he couldn’t even properly ask a question to his foster mom without feeling like a complete embarrassment.</p><p>« Yeah, y-you remember jfk, right? Y’know…T-that one guy with the cool car you saw the other day out of school? The one with the red sweater? » he asked awkwardly, « His birthday…».</p><p>« Oh yeah » she casually commented, « That one tall guy, I remember him…».</p><p>Vincent felt his hands shake nervously so he crossed his arms against his chest to hide them, trying his hardest to look the most nonchalant he has ever been.</p><p>« Yeah, well…» he kept going, « He invited the whole class and…uhm…».</p><p>Silence followed for a short while that almost seemed like an eternity to the boy, only the sound of water boiling in a pot on the stove and the knife his foster mom was using to cut some vegetables were audible, along with a possible distant barking from a dog outside.</p><p> </p><p>« I’m invited too » he finally said, « And…I really wanna go, mom ».</p><p>The woman kept cooking for a few more minutes before finally stopping with what she was doing, carefully wiping her hands on her apron in silence as she slowly turned around and looked at him, a displeased expression on her face.</p><p>Vincent recognized that look, he knew exactly what she meant whenever she made that face and he hated it to death.</p><p>« Vinny, honey…» she said in a completely different and softer tone, « Look, I know how much these sort of things mean to you and how bad you really want to…er, make new friends and-….».</p><p> </p><p>Vincent looked at her in silence, his face quickly heating up and turning a light shade of red, a spontaneous reaction he always had because of his delicate skin condition, mostly happened whenever he felt his anger boiling.</p><p>« But uhm…» the woman continued, nervously playing with the hem of her apron,</p><p>« Vincent, dear…you perfectly know what the therapist said…about, y’know, avoiding crowded places and chaotic or confusional situations…» his foster mom adopted a completely different tone now, so annoyingly sweet and almost satire it made Vincent shake with anger, « And how they might be dangerous or…harmful to your schizop-…».</p><p>« Fucking stop with that story all over again! » Vincent barked back, interrupting her and almost making her jump back in surprise.</p><p>The two exchanged a quick look in which none of them knew which one had to start talking first.</p><p> </p><p>« Vincent-…» the woman tried to get back to the same discourse before getting harshly interrupted by her foster son a second time.</p><p>« I am so tired of you constantly bringing up that thing!! » Vincent cut her off again, tangling his hands in his own hair as he spoke, « Whenever I try to talk to you about something I’m excited about, a person I’ve met or even a new goddamn project I wanna start…all you do is constantly bring up my illnesses! » he screamed at her, his eyes already shiny and his vision quickly growing blurry.</p><p>The woman looked almost petrified and unable to speak.</p><p>« Ok now you listen here, Vince! » she wasn’t gonna let a little teen’s words tore her down that easily, especially if it was for his own safety, « I’m doing all of this for you and only you! Understand?! Weather you like it or not, you can’t do the things the other teens your age do as if nothing was wrong!! » she spit out those painful words like poison,</p><p>« Something doesn’t work right! We all know that! Even you are aware of that! That’s exactly why I’m forbidding you from these activities! » she almost screamed, « To protect you!! ».</p><p> </p><p>Vincent felt tears filling his eyes, they were way too clear and obvious to be hidden now…but he didn’t care.</p><p>« I’ve been taking my fucking medicines and I’ve been having sessions for almost five months now!! I’m doing a lot better but you don’t even seem to realize that!! » his voice cracked as he responded just as harsh, « You never see my improvements! All you’re able to see in me is just a big fucking failure and a mentally unstable teen!! » he felt warm tears rolling down his burning cheeks as quick as ever.</p><p>« Vincent-…» she tried to calm him down.</p><p>« I’m fucking tired of you treating me like a disappointment even after trying so hard! And i’m tired of you treating me as if I was still a g-goddamn child! » he kept going, almost out of breath « I’m aware of m-my problems and how much of a b-burden they are to you, ok?! I’m aware of how much of a regret I am! » he yelled.</p><p> </p><p>The woman looked completely speechless, mostly for the unexpectedly violent reaction of his foster son…but deep down she knew that half of the problem was kinda her fault too.</p><p>« I’m not asking for much! » he sobbed, « I just want everyone to treat me like a fucking normal human being!! » he said in a scream before quickly running away upstairs.</p><p>« Vince! Wait, come back! » the woman tried to follow him up the stair but she stopped immediately at the first step…she couldn’t do it…not yet.</p><p> </p><p>She just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, the guys back at the social services had warned her that taking the responsibility of raising the genetical clone of the real Vincent Van Gogh would have been hard, but she didn’t expect having to go through all these exhausting fights as a routine.</p><p>She tired her best, she really did, but the teen was…let’s say a “complicated” subject.</p><p>The therapist, the teachers, the medic…they all warned her about being careful with him as he mostly tended to be either way “too violent” or “too distant and silent”….there was no in between. Never.</p><p>It didn’t seem like it, but seeing her foster son like that broke her heart, she couldn’t do anything more than just pay for medicines and hope that everything would have passed soon…</p><p>He was too young, she thought in pain, only seventeen and already experiencing the dreadful symptoms of bipolar and borderline personality disorder. This only made her chest hurt more with guilt.</p><p> </p><p>Vincent ran to his room and slammed the door shut as hard as he could.</p><p>He wished he could’ve locked it with a key or something but then again…because of his damned clone father’s past the therapist recommended getting rid of the keys of all the doors in the house, another precaution taken in case Vincent decided to follow the original artist’s traces and lock himself in before attempting suicide.</p><p>Yes, it sounded horrifying; and yes, it was cruel…but these were all methods that his mom was forced to adopt in case Vincent might have had subtle or impulsive dangerous thoughts just like last time when he cut off his own ear out of pure impulse.</p><p>That poor woman still had that horrible memory printed in her mind, that moment when Vincent slowly walked up to her, speechless, shaking like a leaf and pale like a corpse, his hands and face both covered in blood.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So instead of using a key he just limited himself to closing the door and putting a chair under the knob, it didn’t really work much as a lock, but it sure helped in slowing down the movements of anyone who tried to enter.</p><p>Vincent turned around quickly, his chest heaving and his heartbeat racing like hell, it might have been the beginning of a possible panic attack but he couldn’t care less.</p><p>He rushed towards the bed and grabbed the first thing that he could lay his shaky hands on. The pillow.</p><p>He grabbed it and loudly slammed it against the wooden floor with a shout full of anger, making a few newspaper pages fly around from the impact.</p><p>He lifted it and slammed it on the ground a second time, then a third, a fourth…each time harder and harder; before suddenly kneeling in front of it and repeatedly punching it, his knuckles almost turning red from the ardor.</p><p>He wasn’t even that much of a strong person, his energies were always on a low lever and his body could have been easily considered “frail” even if he didn’t fully inherit Van Gogh’s anemia…but he still had strength, not always, but at the peak of his anger he could find all the energies he never thought he had.</p><p> </p><p>He kept going for a few minutes that almost seemed like an eternity, grunting and growling as he vented all his rage on that pillow before finally deciding to stop, slowing his movements bit by bit until he’d eventually pause completely.</p><p>He was breathless, his forehead sweaty and his eyes blurry from the tears.</p><p>The room suddenly fell in a deep silence, only the sounds of his sobs and ragged breaths filled the thick air, almost suffocating him with anxiety.</p><p>His knuckles kinda hurt, even though the surface of the cushion was soft by the way he kept hitting it made his skin burn like hell.</p><p>The boy slowly got up on shaky legs, the heat made him feel a little nauseous and his head was spinning like crazy. He started gasping, he needed air.</p><p>He quickly reached for the window and opened it with trembling hands so that the fresh night air could come in, washing away that intoxicating warmth that almost made him faint from that powerful dizziness.</p><p>He rolled up the sleeves of his sweater for how much his body was sweating, before nervously and almost brutally ripping off the bandages around his head too, throwing them on the floor in annoyance; they felt so fucking itchy and tight around his head that it felt like they could almost strangle the air out of his lungs.</p><p> </p><p>He then closed his eyes and ran both pale hands through his sweaty hair, taking a deep and slow breath and trying his best to calm down.</p><p>Yes, he had another terrible break down, and this time it was one of those he hadn’t experienced in so many months that he almost forgot what it felt like.</p><p>Just breathing slowly couldn’t help though, it never did and probably never will. His medicines were the only way out of this.</p><p>The Valium! Fuck! How come he didn’t think of it before? He already had a few of those packs along with other medicines in the kitchen, under his foster mom’s supervision of course, but the Valium…he always kept another pack with him in the inside pocket of his backpack. And he needed it like hell right now.</p><p> </p><p>He rushed to the backpack still laying on the floor, his trembling fingers rustling through the books inside the bag until they found what he was looking for.</p><p>Without even thinking twice Vincent quickly popped one pill and swallowed it, without even the need of any water.</p><p>Then his blue gaze got lost in the void for a few minutes, his whole body still shaking but now less violently than before as he waited for the effects to kick in.</p><p>A few more minutes, a few more lost gazes…and then it started.</p><p>His whole body suddenly got hit by the warm wave of relaxation, his hands stoped shaking, his heart race slowed, the pain in his knuckles disappeared…</p><p>Fuck he was so thankful to whoever invented these medicines.</p><p>He got up from the floor as if nothing ever happened, almost stumbling on a few paint cans still laying there on his way to the bed, before letting himself drop flat on the mattress, letting out a pleased sigh of relief as he looked at the ceiling in silence.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck it felt good, so fucking good he almost feared he could grow a dependence from these pills…couldn’t happen though, could it?</p><p>He lazily scratched his thin beard before slowly moving his slim fingers to the side of his face, hesitantly touching the scar that started from his temple and ended down the side of his chin.</p><p>It still hurt and the cut still hadn’t completely healed yet, but it felt like a total liberation not to have that restricting bandage around his head anymore, even though it was supposed to always stay there to prevent the wound from infecting…</p><p>If only that scar didn’t make him feel so fucking gross, so insecure and guilt-filled whenever he touched it. It was just another impulse he had out of anger, he couldn’t control it…that’s what the Valium is for, to control his instincts.</p><p> </p><p>He tired to use his pills as little as possible, he knew it wasn’t good for him to keep a secret pack in his bag and that if he wouldn’t have been careful he could’ve almost developed some sort of obsession with them…even though he honestly didn’t really believe it could be possible.</p><p>Also they were limited, so he could only use one in extreme cases or dangerous breakdowns…just like the one that just happened a few minutes ago.</p><p>Vincent slowly closed his eyes as his breathing slowed down gradually until it reached a regular rhythm again, his heart finally stopping from beating so fast.</p><p>Immersed in the reassuring half darkness of his room, behind his closed eyelids, Vincent’s mind could nearly picture a beautiful night sky, immense and blue with stars swirling around in mesmerizing yellow shades…</p><p>It all felt so surreal and confusing and yet so…beautiful.</p><p>Was it a dream? Another hallucination?</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know…but it felt like living in a familiar and reassuring dream, a place of his own where he could find comfort and protection.</p><p>Just like a painting, Vincent was completely in love with the magnificence of it, and he just wanted to blend with those stars and that hypnotic sky that called him so often.</p><p>The boy had finally managed to find the long lost peace he had been looking for, he was truly starting to fall asleep when suddenly the ring tone of his phone woke him up, almost making him jump out of the bed from the fear.</p><p>« Fuck! » he screamed, terrified of how suddenly the device’s ringing brutally woke him up from his dreaming.</p><p>His mind went completely numb and everything he thought he saw on the ceiling dissipated quickly…everything was lost.</p><p> </p><p>Who the fuck was calling him at that hour? He didn’t have anybody saved on his phone…except maybe for…</p><p>« H-Hello? » he muttered once he picked up, scratching his eyes, his head felt so disoriented from that interruption.</p><p>« Vincent! You finally picked up! » the voice of Joan on the other end made him sigh in relief, « I’ve been calling you for the past fifteen minutes, dude! Where have you been? ».</p><p>Vincent slowly scratched the back of his head, looking around his room and noticing how it  got turned into a complete mess from his breakdown earlier.</p><p>« I-I uhh…. » the boy had no words, he tried to remember but his mind felt completely empty, as if the Valium had deleted all memories from his brain, « I-I had…uhh, a few problems..I just…n-nevermind…uhh w-what’s up » he mumbled in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck he sounded so weird. Why did he always had to sound so fucking weird? Why? He hated the way his voice sounded at the phone, he mentally slapped himself.</p><p>« Vincent…» Joan’s voice sounded a little worried, « Are you…are you ok? Is everything alright there, man? ».</p><p>« D-don’t worry about it, Joan » he shook his head, trying to reassure her, « W-Why did you call? ».</p><p>A little silence followed at the phone in which Vincent only felt more and more anxious as time passed by.</p><p>« I uhh…I called you for tomorrow? » Joan reminded him, « The birthday, our plan…remember? ».</p><p>Vincent massaged his temple, « Ah! Fuck, you’re right…» he groaned, « A-Anything in mind? ».</p><p> </p><p>Joan chuckled on the other side of the phone, « I did thought about a few things we could’ve done but then I just realized they might have been a little too…violent? ».</p><p>Vincent half smiled in silence as he listened.</p><p>« And I supposed asking you to paint another murales would just take an eternity since the party’s tomorrow…» she went on, « So I just assumed the least we could do is…I don’t know, lock them all together in a closet? ».</p><p>Vincent snorted, she heard it this time.</p><p>« Hey! Look, it’s the best idea I could think of that wasn’t too illegal or violent, ok? » she chuckled, « And it’s not like we can do anything other than this, the social services and government already keep an eye on both of us so…».</p><p> </p><p>Vincent nodded, the side of his lips curved into a little sleepy smirk, « Ok ok, sounds good enough for me…».</p><p>« So uhm…» Joan hummed after a while, « What did your mom say? You coming this time? ».</p><p>She was aware of the kind of situation Vincent was in and she pretty much knew that the the reason her friend never came to all those parties wasn’t  just because of his lack of friends or connections around the school…he also didn’t had the right mental stability to be in a certain place, it wasn’t a joke and she completely understood that.</p><p>But he was doing a little better, as he said, he improved during those five months…and maybe it was time for him to come out of the shell?</p><p>Of course, Joan only wanted him to feel comfortable and extra sure before agreeing to something as big as coming to one of the most popular students’ biggest parties ever.</p><p> </p><p>Vincent bit his lower lip, nervously looking around…</p><p>Of course his mom didn’t agree, she never did…after all, when did she ever support him in the first place? He thought.</p><p>« S-Sure I’m coming » he said after a while, « Wouldn’t miss it ».</p><p>He obviously sounded a little unsure as he spoke, but hopefully Joan didn’t notice.</p><p>« Really? Fuck, that’s great Vince » she smiled, « Can’t wait till tomorrow night then ».</p><p>« Me either » the boy tried to relax and sound as calm as he could, « Just send me the address, I’ll make sure to be there in t-time » he muttered the last bit.</p><p>« Sure » she simply replied, « See you there ».</p><p>The call ended.</p><p> </p><p>Vincent immediately threw away the phone as if it was boiling between his fingers, his half smile turned into a preoccupied frown. Fuck.</p><p>He was fucked. Completely fucked.</p><p>The boy flopped back against the mattress, his hands covering his face in desperation.</p><p>That was going to be one hell of a night for him.</p><p> </p>
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